To Tell or Not to Tell
by Sentimentalthoughts
Summary: This is an on-going tale between Oliver and Shane as we wait for our next movie. The characters and the inspiration belong to Martha Williamson.
1. Chapter 1

This is an on-going tale between Oliver and Shane as we wait for our next movie. The characters and the inspiration belong to Martha Williamson. This story line follows what I wrote in Letters to Oliver and Signed, Sealed, Personally Delivered. This story takes place after Shane has returned from D.C. She and Oliver have read her letters, except for one, and have been dating. A happy ending is promised.

Three months had almost passed since Shane's return. Summer days were fading and the splash of autumn's color would soon appear. Norman and Rita were relishing in wedding details like two children planning for Christmas. It wasn't going to be a big wedding; actually it would be quite small. However, the event was very big to these two POstables. Marriage was once and forever. They were so well loved by all who knew them that everyone joined in their glee and wanted only the best for the upcoming nuptials.

None were more supportive than their two best friends, Oliver O'Toole and Shane McInerny. Oliver accompanied Norman in choosing a new suit for the ceremony. Shane helped Rita choose flowers and her dress. With these two folks for friends, the happy couple was flanked by sound advice and encouragement.

The engaged couple decided that Shane and Oliver would be their only attendants. Norman had too many cousins from which to choose for groomsmen so he would have only Oliver as his best man. Shane would be Rita's maid of honor. And of all people, Ramon was licensed by the state of Colorado and could conduct the wedding.

While Norman and Rita's relationship walked on solid ground, things for Oliver and Shane were closer to walking on eggshells. They were pleasant with other, even jovial together. They went to dinner, the theatre, museums, picnics, and church together. But the passion with which Oliver had kissed her in DLO upon her return from D.C. waned.

Shane worried that the disclosure of her feelings for him through reading her letters had been too much too soon. Maybe you don't want to be the first woman a man gets involved with after his divorce.

Sometimes when Norman and Rita were discussing their upcoming wedding, Shane would notice how quiet Oliver would become, the far away look he got in his eyes. Was he thinking of his own failed marriage? Was he questioning if it was something that he would ever do again?

One day during lunch at The Mailbox Grille, Ramon offered Rita and Norman dance lessons.

Ramon said, "The first dance as husband and wife should be the great dance of all dances that they could ever dance."

Norman was terrified by Roman's definition of a great dance but he couldn't refuse his excited fiancée.

"Dance classes, oh boy," said a nervous Norman.

"You know Shane and Oliver love dance classes. Don't you love dance classes? I'm sure they would want to take them with us," said Norman, looking at Oliver with pleading fear in his eyes.

"Yes, that would be fun. Oh please do!" said Rita.

"Shane, would you like to take classes with Rita and Norman?" asked Oliver.

"I am available if you are," said Shane.

"Then we will join you. We have said that we need practice," said Oliver.

Shane was glad for opportunity. She too thought it would be fun and that it would be something that Oliver would particularly enjoy. Oliver seemed to share Shane's enthusiasm for the opportunity. However, by the third class you would have thought that it was Shane and Oliver who had never danced together. Oliver had not just lost his rhythm; he seemed to have forgotten the steps. In one session, he was pulling her out of a dip and actually dropped her.

"Oh dear, are you alright? I'm so sorry. I, I just…Let me assist you," said Oliver.

Norman, Rita, and Ramon rushed over to the fallen dance partner.

"I'm fine, really," said Shane, brushing off her skirt as she stood.

"I'm so sorry," Oliver continued.

"Everything is fine. I just…slipped," said Shane, trying to deflect the responsibility from Oliver to herself.

Shane regained her composure as the other duo of POstables laughed about their own stumbles. Ramon took the opportunity to pull Oliver to the side.

"I see you. Stop it. You are thinking too much," said Ramon.

"Well, it has been a while since we danced and perhaps I…," said Oliver.

"No. No. Dance is about the heart – two hearts, beating as one. You must allow your heart to beat with the beautiful Shane. Her heart is beating. No?" said Ramon.

To that lesson in life Oliver cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and walked away.

"Ms. McInerny, I think we need to return to work," said Oliver.

And with that, the class ended.


	2. Chapter 2 Dinner is Served

An eight-day postal conference was to be held in Boulder in early September. It was the tedious annual meeting that no one wanted to attend. The Denver Post Master had to draft employees to go. This year Oliver volunteered for duty. Sure it was the kind of thing that this tried and true postal devotee might actually enjoy, but the timing seemed inconvenient to say the least. It felt more like an excuse to get away. At least Shane took it that way.

Shane invited Oliver to dinner at her house the Sunday night before he was to leave for Boulder on Monday. She prepared herb roasted chicken, new potatoes, and haricot vert. She even made a tart filled with homemade lemon curd for dessert. She hoped in the privacy of her home, sitting at the same table where they had shared several of her letters, that they may recapture the magic of that night.

"To wear or not to wear, that is the question. Oh dear, I do sound like Oliver. That's too dressy, that's too casual, and that's just well - old. Ah, here it is. I'm going to wear the orange dress," Shane said. "By the look on Oliver's face when he saw me, he liked what he saw – until Steve came out of nowhere. Oh Steve, always showing up at the wrong time. No Steve tonight. Just Oliver and I and a good lemon curd."

As punctual as ever, at 5:00 sharp the doorbell rang.

"Good evening, Oliver," said Shane.

"Good evening, I brought you these," said Oliver, pushing the bouquet toward Shane and himself away from her.

"Thank you. They are extraordinary. I'll just put them in a vase," said Shane.

The bouquet of late summer flowers was large and stunning, even extravagant. Asters, dahlias, gloriosa daisies, and Abraham Darby roses – lots of roses - mixed with prefect wisps of greenery were tied with yellow ribbon. Any other time such a bouquet was delivered the recipient would have thought that they were an extraordinary declaration of devotion. The only problem was Shane wasn't certain if they were a gift or a shield.

"Uhm, no stars, I guess they aren't from Blooms and Hugs. This is odd. He brought flowers - incredibly beautiful, expensive, some hard to get from the florist - flowers - but he didn't even look at me. I think I could have answered the door naked and he wouldn't have noticed," Shane thought.

"Dinner is almost ready. Would you like a glass of wine?" Shane asked.

"That would be fine," said Oliver rather flatly.

"Would that really be fine? Did he care? Maybe I should just hand him a Yoo-Hoo and a glass," she thought.

Something was wrong with Oliver and Shane McInerny was clueless as to the cause. One minute he seemed as if he couldn't wait to see her, then when they were together his attention went elsewhere. One minute he couldn't wait to dance with her, and then once they started to dance he developed two left feet.

Over dinner they made small talk about the unusually warm weather, the upcoming conference, and work that awaited them at the DLO in Oliver's absence.

"Thank you again for the flowers. It is a breathtaking selection," said Shane.

For the first time all evening, he looked across the table directly into her eyes.

"I wanted to …..to tell….to get you something before.…I…left for…Boulder," he said, his voice trailing off.

Once again Oliver choose to look at his plate rather than his dinner partner.

"I'll call the DLO and give you my room number once I get settled," he continued.

"We need to get you a cell phone," said Shane.

The minute these words left her mouth she regretted it. He looked as if she had said that he should carry a gun or get a full body tattoo.

"I just meant that it would be convenient if you needed to reach us while in conference or if we had an issue at the office," Shane said.

"Yes, of course. Well maybe when I return," said Oliver.

With that statement, silence fell.

"How are the clams?" Shane finally mumbled.

"Pardon?" Oliver replied.

"You aren't eating your dinner. You seem…preoccupied. Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Yes, I just have an early morning and I haven't packed. I should not tarry this evening," said Oliver.

"Well don't let me keep you," Shane said curtly.

"Yes, well if you don't mind," Oliver said.

He folded his napkin and began to stand.

"Not At All, I don't mind one bit," she replied.

He didn't acknowledge or seem to mind that she was curt. It was as if it did not register. They both stood. She followed him to the door. He cautiously kissed her on the forehead, still not looking her in the eyes, and said that he would be in touch.

Out the door he went.


	3. Chapter 3 Ready to Run

"So much for lemon curd tarts," Shane said as she cleared the table and thought about the mess in the kitchen.

This wasn't the evening that she had hoped to have. Oliver was leaving town in the morning and she had no idea where his head or his heart was.

As she cleaned the kitchen, she thought about the kiss on her forehead as he left. It was a far cry from the passionate kiss in the DLO the day she returned from Washington. That was a kiss in which the world stops and for those few brief moments you lose yourself. She felt lost now – lost without him.

Truth be told, Shane's past had left wounds on her heart as well. She knew what it felt like to have the most important man in a child's life walk out and not look back. She knew what it was like to be young and just out of college and swept away by a dashing agent who never let you know how he felt or even where he was. And years later, once she finally thought that she could trust him, he manipulates her in the name of being in love. The three stressful months away had taken a greater toll on her spirit than she or Oliver realized. She was still emotionally drained. Oliver's vacillating commitment was too much. Maybe it was too good to be true.

She took a deep breath and fought tears. She dried her hands on a kitchen towel and walked into her den. She kicked off her heels and curled up on her sofa. Across the room stood the incredible vase of flowers.

"Whoever said you could say it with flowers must have had a translator," said Shane. "I certainly don't know what you guys mean."

Shane got up and walked over to the flowers, removing one of the beautiful yellow roses from the arrangement. She brought it to her nose and smelled its sweet fragrance. She brought it back to the sofa with her. She remembered his grin, so proud, when he gave her that clipping from the rosebush in D.C. She thought of his smile of pride when he realized the rose in her hair was a symbol of success and second chances. She would trade the entire beautiful bouquet tonight for one smile, one look of affection tonight.

At first she tired reading, then she tried watching television. After wearing out the remote channel-surfing, she picked up her ipad. She checked twitter and Instagram. Tonight's Hallmark mystery seemed to be trending – something about a harvest moon garage sale in a tea garden thing. She turned on the movie but didn't really pay any attention. She checked her email. It was Sunday night, she could call her mom. But then she would have to pretend to be happy. She stared at the television until the movie ended.

It was a particularly warm September night and still early. She decided to go for a run. Maybe that would clear her head and lift her heart.

She went to her bedroom and quickly changed.

"Oliver certainly didn't seem to notice this dress. If Steve had shown up tonight, I'm not sure Oliver would have noticed that either. Apparently, not the time – trust the timing. The timing is one thing, Oliver O'Toole is something else."

Instead it was time for a pair of old running shorts complete with a bleach stain, a faded athletic tank, and running shoes. The perfectly styled blond hair was relegated to a high ponytail. With water bottle in hand, she was ready to go.


	4. Chapter 4 Checking on the Garden

Here goes chapter 4. I had a great deal of fun with this chapter with more fun in chapter 5. I hope you enjoy reading it and aren't disappointed - as in finding it much ado about nothing.

Meanwhile, Oliver left Shane's house but he did not go home. Packing his suitcase didn't seem so urgent. He just kept driving – all the way to his dad's house.

"Oliver," said Joe.

"Uh hi dad, may I come in?" said Oliver.

"Sure, of course, come on in. I thought that you were having dinner with Shane," said Joe.

"I did," said Oliver.

"How was it? Everything ok?" asked Joe.

"Fine, fine. How is your late summer vegetable garden?" said Oliver, quickly changing the subject.

"How is my vegetable garden? You drove all the way up here to ask about vegetables. It's coming along nicely. The tomatoes still look great and my squash is producing more than we can use."

"Um, that's nice," said Oliver.

"The cucumbers are all gone but before long we will have pumpkins," said Joe.

"Yes, pumpkins are always good," said Oliver.

Joe knew his son's mind was not on vegetables.

"Yes, and I traded a cow for some magic beans that I'm going to plant tomorrow," said Joe with a smile.

"Beans are good," mumbled Oliver.

"Oliver, I don't think you came here to talk vegetables. Is this visit really about my vegetable garden or is it about Shane?" asked Joe

"Well dad, I'm glad you asked about her. Since you mentioned it," said Oliver.

Oliver stood and began to pace, his hands behind his back, looking more at the floor than at Joe. Then his rapid fire, frustrated tirade on Shane began.

"I mean you did bring up the subject," said Oliver defensively.

"Yes, I did," said Joe, smiling.

"Then I shall enlighten you concerning Ms. McInerny," said Oliver.

"Uh oh, it's Ms. McInerny," Joe said, turning his head away from Oliver and running his fingers through his hair.

"First and foremost, she is impossible. You do know that she is impossible? The first time we met she simply interjected herself into my path and ordered coffee – oh not just for herself, but my coffee as well. She just stepped right in front of me. What was I to do? I am a gentleman. And there she was all brash and beautiful. She is beautiful. You have noticed that she has this blonde hair and these blue eyes? And have you noticed her perfume? Uhm."

"And that's a problem?" interrupted Joe, smiling all the while.

Oliver completely ignored his dad and continued pacing and ranting.

"She is also very smart. She is some sort of technology wizard. She does things with computers that you cannot imagine. She makes you…need her skills. But does she have a degree in computer science? NO! She earned a degree in art history or some such. Art! And you should hear her talk about jazz and blues. She just reels you into her conversation. The next thing you know, you lost 2 hours of your life," railed Oliver.

"I mean who has two hours to lose talking about such," said Oliver. "Life is short."

"Well son, we agree on that," said Joe. "Life is short."

Pacing the floor he continued.

"And she does not just speak of music. She will speak of almost anything. She is not afraid to say whatever is on her mind. She is fearless. Did you know that she is fearless? She just walks right up to me and says whatever she thinks. She once called me…. a human antique! That cannot be acceptable in a civilized society."

The flood of words from Oliver poured forth.

"She is unpredictable. One moment she is confrontational, sticking things like cell phones in my face, and the next moment she is wise and supportive. Climb up here and join me she says. You are like snowman she says. Then she turns into the sun that causes me to melt How is one to keep one's balance with such?"

"Oliver, you aren't making any sense," said Joe.

"When I learned about, well you know Harvey; she was all caring and patient and understanding. I want to put my arms around you right now but I know that's not what you want she says. The next thing I know I'm saying when has that ever stopped you. Well, you know how that ended. You understand that. Is that not just terrible?"

"Not really, how did that end?" said Joe, trying to interrupt.

Oliver continued to pace adding an occasional gesticulation.

"Oh, and she can do other things too, she can dance. She practically floats in your arms. You start to pull her out of a dip and she looks at you with, with that look – those blue eyes. No wonder I can't remember the steps! No wonder I dropped her."

"You dropped her, literally, or you dropped her as you girlfriend?" said Joe.

"Heavens no. I dropped her on the floor," said Oliver.

By this point, Joe had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"And she can cook. Would you believe I went there for dinner tonight and she had prepared this, this delicious meal? Not simply green beans. No it was haricot vert. She even offered me…. dessert. I mean what is a gentleman to do?"

"Oliver," Joe said again.

"See, it is her who drives me…I mean it is she who….who drives me mad," said Oliver

"Oliver, why don't you sit down? How about a beer or a glass of wine?" said Joe.

Oliver sat down on the couch, leaned forward and placed his head in his hands.

"Let's think about all of these…terrible qualities you mentioned. I think I have this right. You are involved with a smart, beautiful, patient, kind, well educated, talented, fearless woman who stands by you and even spoils you with her cooking. Is that about right?" said Joe.

"Yes, and what is worse…I am in love with her and I think want to marry her," said Oliver quietly.

"Son, you are upset about that?" said Joe.

"I guess I am. After she came back from D.C. we spent the night together. Not like that. She had written these letters to me while she was away and we spent the night sharing those letters and talking. When we finished, I did not want to leave her. I had no desire to go home to an empty house – ever again."

"I thought what have I done? I've fallen in love. We're moving too fast. Slow things down. But when I see her, I….I don't want to hold back."

"You just want her?" said Joe.

"Dad, every time I'm with her all I want to do is tell her that I'm in love with her. When I am with her I can hardly breathe. I forget what I'm doing. I'm trying not to rush things. I had a plan. I had a timeline. I can barely stand to look at her for wanting to just, to just tell her how deeply I'm in love with her. I think about her all the time. I'm trying to slow things down. When she first returned from D.C., I had so longed for her and then it was, it was like every joy, every hope, was all right in front of me. This is not some romantic tale, this is life. I must be sober and responsible. I cannot have another failed marriage," said Oliver.

"Son, failed marriage? You have just started dating and you've jumped all the way to failed marriage. Does she even know how you feel?" asked Joe.

"I do not know."

"Let's think on these things," said Joe. "You don't want things to end up the way things did with Holly. Right?"

"Correct," said Oliver.

"Are things even close to beginning the way they began with Holly?" asked Joe.

"No."

"Did you and Holly want the same things out of life?" Joe continued.

"No," said Oliver.

"Do you and Shane want the same things out of life?"

"I think so."

"Did you and Holly value the same things in life?"

"No."

"Do you and Shane value the same things in life?"

"Yes."

"Did you and Holly share the same faith commitment?"

"No."

"Are you and Shane on the same page in matters of faith?"

"We have become the same."

"Oliver, those are some of the big questions," said Joe.

Oliver's tone grew even more serious. He spoke softly and calmly.

"Dad, a several weeks ago, we had been out to dinner. We had a wonderful time. We had gone for a walk and everything just seemed so perfect. I was kissing her goodnight and I was holding her in my arms and suddenly, it was as if I wasn't just holding her. I was embracing vulnerability and surrender and hope. I guess I just got…scared."

"Honestly, did you ever feel like this with Holly?"

"No."

"Son, I love you. I am sorry I wasn't here for you when you got involved with Holly, but that marriage was a mistake from the start. You aren't the same man that rushed into that relationship. Your relationship with Shane bears no resemblance to your relationship with Holly in any way that matters. I think I can say that at least this relationship isn't a mistake from the beginning. You haven't told Shane that you love her, how you feel?"

"No. I thought if I took the assignment in Boulder that it would give us time apart. I could regain control. But the thought of leaving her….I couldn't even look at her tonight. I lost my appetite. She has to realize that this is for the best," said Oliver.

"Son, do not assume that she knows how you feel. If you really love her, except for all the horrible qualities you mentioned earlier, I think you need to tell her," said Joe with a smile.

"I don't know," said Oliver.

"And as far as rushing things, how long have you known Shane?" said Joe.

"Almost 3 years," said Oliver.

"And in that time you have worked with her almost every day," said Joe.

"Yes," said Oliver.

"And when did you first start having feelings for Shane," asked Joe.

"Before I should have," said Oliver.

"I don't think this is quite rushing things," said Joe.

Joe moved to the couch beside Oliver and wrapped his arm around his son's shoulder.

"Oliver, tell her how you feel. Then trust – trust the timing. You do realize how much she loves you? Everybody who knows you two can see that. As far as I can see, she is the one who risks being hurt by you. I was at the Grille on jazz night with you, what, two weeks ago. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I was watching Shane watching you. She looked, I don't know, alone, worried, hurt. You were over talking to Gabe. Maybe you shouldn't leave town tomorrow without telling her how you feel. Let it go. Then just enjoy being in love. It is time to enjoy life. An incredible woman is in love with you. Celebrate it. Stop fighting it. You deserve this. You deserve each other. Do you really want one of you to leave town again without saying everything that needs to be said? I mean how is not telling her working for you two?"

"Not telling her, is not working at all," said Oliver.

The two men sat together in silence for several minutes.

"You think I am causing her pain?" asked Oliver.

"You need to ask her about that," said Joe.

"Thanks dad. I need to go. I think I need to see a smart, beautiful, kind woman about some dessert," said Oliver.

The two men hugged each other and then Oliver left.


	5. Chapter 5 Achilles Heel

Meanwhile, Shane was trying to run off a disappointing evening.

"If I take a left at the corner I could run by his house. No thank you. Never again. No more running by his house. I'll just keep running. It's a little further this way and the extra distance will be good for me. Maid of honor has to be ready to go the distance," Shane thought.

Instead of jogging her usual streets, Shane took the longest, hardest path. She wasn't thinking about the steep hill that she would be required to take going this route. Just as she made the hill about five blocks from her house, she realized that it had been a while since she ran that far, and it had been even longer since she pulled that steep hill. The back of her calfs and every tendon leading to her ankles were reminding her of that fact. Her run slowed to a jog, which slowed to a limp. By the time she reached the top of the hill her right Achilles tendon was killing her.

"Boy is it warm for September. This certainly isn't sweat-proof mascara," Shane said as she wiped perspiration from her face.

The extra care she had taken in putting on eye make-up earlier in the evening had gone to waste. The streaks that every woman hates were on her index fingers and on her cheeks.

"Oh why not?" she said. "My personal appearance doesn't seem to matter tonight."

About two blocks from her house the heat and fatigue got the best of her. She splashed her face with the remaining water in the bottle she was carrying. A limping, short-of-breath, perspiring, mascara-stained face Shane McInerny finally made it to the last block before her house.

Just then she looked toward her porch and saw him - the unmistakable form of Oliver O'Toole. She stopped in her tracks and put her hands on her hips, closed her eyes, and shook her head.

Oliver had arrived at Shane's about 20 minutes earlier. He rang the bell but no one answered. The porch light was on and her car was there. He thought that she had gone out with someone.

"I will not be deterred. After all, I was the one who left abruptly. I will sit on this porch swing until kingdom come. If Mr. Marek can wait for her return, then I certainly can wait. Waiting for her return seems to be something I have practiced. And in the meantime, I can, I can practice saying - saying things," Oliver said to himself.

Oliver removed his jacket, loosened his tie, rolled up his cuffs, and began to wait.

Finally he saw her limping up the street. Concerned that she was injured, he jumped up and ran to meet her.

"Shane, are you hurt?" Oliver called.

"I'm fine. What are you doing?" she asked.

Oliver made a clumsy attempt to offer her his arm. She was having none of it.

"Don't you need to pack?" she asked.

"Yes, well no, here let me help you," said Oliver.

She made one more step and felt a ripping burn go up the back of her right leg.

"Ou!" she said, stopping completely.

With that he scooped her up in his arms and began to carry her to the house.

"You put me down. Mr. O'Toole, I made it three months without your help and I think I can get myself into my own house!" said Shane.

"I'm sure that you are fully capable of making it without…."

Before he could finish, the blue lights of the patrol car flashing along side of them caught their attention.

"Stop right there," said the officer.

"Now look at what you have done," said Shane quietly.

"Good evening officer," said Oliver, continuing to hold Shane.

"Mam are you all right? Is this man bothering you?" said the officer.

"She injured her…," started Oliver.

"You be quiet!" said the officer. "Let the lady speak for herself."

For a brief moment the image of Oliver going to jail flashed through Shane's mind.

"Yes, officer. I am fine. Apparently, I hurt my Achilles tendon running. My FRIEND was just helping me to my house. I'm very sorry if we bothered anyone," Shane said, still being held in Oliver's arms.

"Hey, are you the guy we caught installing that porch swing?" asked the officer.

"Yes officer, I am," said Oliver.

"Mam, are you sure this fellow isn't bothering you?" he asked.

Shane hesitated for just a second.

"No officer. He is no bother," she said.

"Well, if you are sure. You take care of yourself," said the police officer.

Shooting Oliver one last hard glare, the officer pulled away and drove down the street.

"I thought for a moment that you were going to send me to jail," said Oliver with a smile as he carried her up the steps to her house.

"I considered it. But Dale would just get you out," snapped Shane.

"If you are trying to get a rise out of me, it won't work," said Oliver.

"What are you doing here? It's late," Shane continued.

"I came for my dessert," said Oliver.

"I bet you did," said Shane.

"The door is locked. Where is your key?" said Oliver.

"It's in my pocket. I've got it," Shane said.

With some degree of bumbling difficulty, Oliver managed to get both Shane and himself across the threshold. He carefully placed her on the couch.

"Where are you going?" asked Shane.

"I am going to get some ice for your tendon," said Oliver. "It's probably inflamed."

Oliver walked toward the kitchen.

"How do you know about inflamed tendons?"

"I ran track," said Oliver. "Remember, I'm competitive."

"I thought that was chess," said Shane.

"Well, I was better at chess," said Oliver.

"If you want dessert apparently you have to get it yourself," Shane called to the kitchen as she removed her shoe.

Oliver brought the bag of ice wrapped in a towel and placed it under Shane's lower calf. He then slipped her legs slightly further onto the sofa, making room for him to sit facing her.

"And where's your coat?" said Shane.

"On the porch swing," said Oliver. "I will get it when I leave."

"Now, how is the tendon?" asked Oliver.

"Better," said Shane. "You know that none of this necessary. You have bags to pack and I wouldn't want to keep you. Have a safe trip."

Oliver O'Toole had been officially discharged for the evening. He, however, had no intentions of leaving. And that mattered.

"I am fully aware of how competent you are. I am also well aware that I have yet to pack. I am here because I want to be here. You have frequently told me things that I needed to hear. I have something that I think you need to hear. It is something that I need to say before I leave town," said Oliver.

"Earlier this evening, when I was dressed, makeup on, hair in place, wearing heels, you were in a hurry to pack a suitcase. You didn't even finish the meal that I prepared. And now, that I am a disheveled mess, in pain, you are sitting here, holding my hand, bringing ice for my Achilles tendon, wanting to talk."

"A rose by any other….," said Oliver.

"No Shakespeare, that won't work," said Shane. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"What I am trying to say is that you are always beautiful to me – stunning orange dress or running apparel, hair up or down. You. Are. Beautiful."

"Thank you very much for that information," said Shane. "Good night."

"Alas, Ms. McInerny, I am not finished. You are also patient and kind. You are funny and smart. You are brave and tenacious. You are honest and faithful. And I want to be the man who tells you these things."

"Well, you are articulate," said Shane.

"You are also incredible and I have fallen hopelessly, madly, in love with you. And I am not leaving town without you knowing this indisputable, irrefutable truth."

As he spoke his eyes welled with tears. He moved closer to her and brought her to him. He kissed her with the same passion they had shared months ago.

The kiss broke and Shane was in need of a tissue. Oliver reached into his back pocket and gave her his handkerchief.

"Do you mind repeating that last part?" said Shane wiping tears.

"I love you," said Oliver. "And I will repeat that as often as you wish."

"I'm a little confused. I thought you were….pulling away?" said Shane.

"Let's just say that I had a letter that I thought I should wait to mail and I realized that it could not wait any longer," said Oliver.

Oliver drew her close again.

"I love you," Oliver whispered in her ear.

"I have loved you for so long," said Shane, tears flowing.

"And I am so grateful that you did," said Oliver.

"I want to be the man who carries you when you limp, who walks with you when you can, who runs with you when you are ready. Do you understand?" said Oliver.

"Are we near the edge of forever?" asked Shane.

"Yes, we are very close," said Oliver. "If that is where you want to be?"

"Yes, yes it is," said Shane.

He held her close. This time the sense of their mutual vulnerability and surrender brought him peace and hope for their future.

"What can I get for you now?" said Oliver.

"Well, I'm hungry. Do you think you can get us both some dessert?" asked Shane.

"I would be happy too," said Oliver.

Oliver moved around Shane's kitchen as if he were in his own home. She was glad to see him so comfortable there. He found the dessert, the plates, the forks, the napkins.

The two spent more time than Oliver could afford laughing and talking over lemon tarts. He would be up late into the night getting ready for that trip to Boulder.

She thought about that last letter written with his pen that she still carried in her bag. The time for sharing was getting closer - but not yet.

"Before I leave can I deposit you somewhere?" asked Oliver.

"No, I'll be fine," said Shane.

"I hate to leave you injured," said Oliver.

"I hate for you to leave. Oliver, I'm glad you mailed that letter," said Shane.

"So am I. So am I."


End file.
